


The Cure for Loneliness

by Severina



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Community: tv-universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 18:35:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6295291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severina/pseuds/Severina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle is entranced by the gift of her new library from Rumplestiltskin, but something is missing for them both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cure for Loneliness

Belle curled her legs happily beneath her on the settee, her latest book open on her lap. It was, by her reckoning, the twelfth volume she'd read since Rumplestiltskin had gifted her with the library a week ago. She let her eyes drift from the open page, biting her lip as she gazed upon the stacks. So many books! A lifetime of books in a single room. It was overwhelming, and she sometimes had to stop herself from simply piling them around her on the floor and rolling in them like a puppy. 

Belle laughed to herself at the fanciful notion. She could only imagine what Rumple would say if he came upon her in such a state. She saw him less frequently these days, in any case. Her chores took little time, and she was far less likely to linger over a complicated recipe in the kitchen when Rumple seemed just as pleased with stew and chunks of fresh bread. She served him and then ate her own portion quickly in the kitchen, eager to get back to the adventures taking place in the latest novel she'd snatched from the shelves. If Rumplestiltskin had noticed that she no longer loitered about in the Great Room, flitting back and forth among his pedestaled treasures and standing to study the tapestries hanging on the walls, he certainly gave no sign.

And well… she suspected Rumple didn't know what to _do_ with her, now that he realized that his attempts to frighten her only made her roll her eyes and that she tackled any task he gave her with little complaint. She had the feeling that his gift of the library had been as much to keep her occupied and out of his way as it was to make her happy.

She finally drew her eyes away from all the bound books waiting patiently for her and returned to the volume in her lap. It was an adventure novel, a thrilling tale of piracy on the high seas, and before long she was caught up in the escapades of Captain Chastain and his villainous first mate. She was so preoccupied by the machinations of the crew and their treachery that it was quite some time before she realized that the tower room was no longer silent. A rhythmic thump had intruded upon her solitude, and she looked up distractedly to find the source. 

Rumplestiltskin sat in the corner of the room, his spinning wheel before him. 

Belle blinked, confused. "Rumple?"

He paused in his spinning, the straw held loosely in his grasp. She could see that the small basket in which he caught the fruits of his labours was already overflowing with golden thread. How long had he perched there spinning while she sat entranced by her novel and oblivious to his presence?

"Yes, dearie?"

"I…" Belle shook her head, held her book closed with a finger between the pages. "Did you… need something?"

A silly question! If he needed her he simply would have called for her… or more likely, _poofed_ her away from whatever she was doing to appear breathless and shocked by his side.

Rumplestiltskin's brow furrowed, seemingly as perplexed by the question as she was by the asking of it. "No," he answered shortly. He stared at her for a moment longer and, when nothing more was forthcoming, turned again to his wheel.

Belle bit her lip, watched his hands as they eased through their paces. Two full circuits of the wheel, and then… "Rumple?" 

Rumplestiltskin sighed as he again stopped his work. "Really, dearie, if you're going to keep interrupting me I may as well have remained in the Great Room," he snipped. "Now what is it that you want?"

"But that's what I was wondering," Belle began. She straightened under his stern gaze, setting her book aside. "Why are you… here?" she asked. "In my library?"

" _Your_ library?" Rumple repeated incredulously. 

"You know what I mean," Belle answered. "You've never spun up here before."

"How would you know what I have and haven't done before you entered my service?" Rumplestiltskin answered. When she merely raised a brow, he threw back his head. "If you must know," he huffed out, "it's the light."

Belle frowned, glancing at the single unlit candle on the table. "The light?"

"The light, Belle, the light! This window," he gestured elaborately, "gets the best light. And I require adequate light when I spin! Quite simple, really. One would think that even a Lady from one of the inconsequential border kingdoms could figure it out," he sniffed.

"I see," Belle said softly.

She ducked her head so that he wouldn't see her smile. No reason to point out that if he wanted more light, he merely had to open the drapes in the Great Room. Nor to mention that his own magic gave him all the light he wished, merely with the snap of his fingers. She deliberately didn't look up until she could no longer feel his eyes upon her, and then still waited until the wheel once again gave off its cadenced beat. Only when she judged that Rumplestiltskin was well involved in his work did she lift her head. 

She watched the spin of the wheel, as always never able to quite catch the moment when the straw transformed into a delicate strand of gold. But the motion was soothing, and the sound of the wheel as it turned seemed to match the beat of her heart. She had missed it. She had missed him, she realized – with his quips and quibbles, his eccentricities and veiled insults, all of which only served to reveal more of the decency and kindness that he tried so desperately to hide. 

And apparently he had missed her, too.

Smiling to herself again, Belle settled back comfortably in the settee. She took up her book and found her place, but the tale of derring-do didn't seem quite as exciting any more. In the end she set it aside and snuggled deeper into the sofa, propping her head on her arm as she watched Rumplestiltskin at the wheel. The sunlight flashed on the silk of his shirt, making it shine with golden fire; it teased highlights from his curls and set his skin to sparkle like jeweled beads on a fine gown. 

She watched his fingers move deftly through their paces until her eyes grew heavy. 

She did not hear the wheel finally come to a stop, nor feel the shawl as it was draped over her sleeping body. But when she awoke to the spinning wheel motionless in the corner and a delicate golden filigree bookmark sitting atop her pirate novel, she smiled again and hugged the gift to her chest. 

It was with a light heart that she skipped downstairs to prepare the evening meal. Not stew this time, but roast mutton and a cranberry sauce. And when Rumplestiltskin raised his eyebrows when she perched on the table, swinging her legs and keeping up a running discourse with him through the meal, she pretended not to notice.


End file.
